Out Of The Dark

Not far from Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris sits a unique restaurant: Dans le Noir, a dining experience in complete darkness. Upon arrival, you share any food allergies and put phones and watches into a locker. You are lined up like a train with your hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you. You swiftly duck behind a thick curtain and are in complete darkness. Visually impaired waitstaff guide you to your table and help you get seated as you are immersed in the world they experience daily.

You are breathing short and shallow, as though the air is thick. Your pulse quickens as you wait for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You see nothing. You have no idea how many people are around, where the walls are, or what is on the table.

You keep waving your hand in front of your face expecting to see a shadow. All you see is black, no movement or flicker of light.

Your eyes might as well be closed. The waitstaff senses your discomfort and asks if you are OK. You desperately want to leave but are embarrassed because this is their reality. You nod your head before you realize no one can see that and mumble you are fine.

You are told to pour yourselves water from a pitcher in the center of the table. Nervous laughter ripples around the table as the person next to you wonders how. You pat your hands on the table in front of you and feel a plate and silverware. You keep patting forward and find a glass and a jug of water. You carefully place the jug on the rim of the glass and pour until you feel water hit your finger bent inside the lip of the glass.

Yelling seems the best way to compete for attention because no one knows who is listening or looking at them. The whole room is very noisy with a nervous energy hanging in the air.

You hear people yell to each other: “You know, we don’t have to stay for the whole dinner.” You smile, grateful not to be the only one with doubts.

Your entree is placed in front of you. You are told to start at 12 o’clock and make your way clockwise around the plate. You try to use your fork and knife, quickly give up and use your hands. It’s freeing not to be seen. You don’t have to smile or look at your fellow diners. Your energy is channeled towards not dropping anything or panicking. Your mind alternates between wanting to leave and sticking it out to finish the meal. Every few minutes you wave your hands in front of your eyes – still nothing.

You can’t tell what you are eating and aren’t even sure if you care. Textures are confusing. Your taste can’t discern between sweet, sour, salty, bitter, or savory. You’ve always heard that your other senses are heightened if one is dulled. Your senses are just broken. You yell to be heard, don't know what you are touching, and when you manage to get the food into your mouth, you have no idea what you taste.

Your brain asks questions like "Is it fish or a vegetable?" and your taste buds yell back "Who knows?!" You feel like you’ve been in the darkness three hours.

Dinner finally ends and you leave with hands on shoulders, shuffling your feet in small steps. You are told to look down when passing through the curtain to help your eyes adjust to the light. On this side of the curtain, 75 minutes have passed, and you realize your body has been tense the whole time. You read over the menu to learn what you ate. Your ears are ringing, and you are exhausted as you gather your phone and watch. Only then does the experience begin to make an imprint.

The experience was nothing like you expected. Nothing was familiar and stress prevented clear thinking. Everything was confusing as you fought the urge to leave.

While most senses failed you, one was strengthened by the experience: empathy.

Empathy for people who navigate a world built for someone else. Empathy for people who regularly experience discomfort without you knowing. Empathy for yourself: realizing you are a work in progress, learning and growing from your experiences.

These past several months have had a similar effect on employees and leaders. People have been under massive stress. Most were challenged to figure out how to be socially distant, keep families safe, and where possible - pivot to virtual work during the pandemic. Many Black leader and employees have experienced trauma, frustration, and exhaustion. Many people are reflecting on when they have been an ally, where they fell short, and if they have truly helped to cultivate diverse and inclusive teams and cultures. It has been a lot, and it has been hard.

We have emerged from the darkness with our new sense of empathy.

This is the most critical sense to exercise as we continue to navigate this global pandemic and dismantle systemic racism.

There has never been a more important time to reflect on our workplace cultures.

To do things not because they are words hung on the wall or the way we’ve always done them. But because they are what we value and want reinforced each day going forward.

Culture never stopped when we weren’t collocated in offices. It became more pronounced in daily experience of virtual work. How we invited and made space for opinions and constructive challenge…really listening – or didn’t. How we empowered people to do their work and helped remove obstacles – or didn’t. How we focused on flexibility and outcomes and not control, micromanagement and power. How we kept asking what we were missing – or assumed we had all the answers.

There is one question you can ask your employees to understand experience of culture. This question is even more poignant now with family observing employees working during quarantine:

How would your friends and family describe the culture at our company?

Ask this question as you emerge from the darkness and let these experiences make their imprint. The answers may delight you or make you uncomfortable. Maybe you are faced with making changes you never thought to make. See what comes up. Sit in the discomfort. Recognize what to pay attention to and intentionally define what to carry forward.

***

Want to receive more articles like this one? Sign up for Brain Food here.